The Dreamer
by AyersIris
Summary: Eames and Arthur find themselves in England doing a mysterious favour for Cobb, the girl they find when the job is completed is not who she seems. Could her identity hit very close to home for more than member of the team? first story please r&r!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- I own nothing except my OC, but prezzies are always welcome...

Ch. 1 Collection

The backstreets around the Brixton council estate buildings were suspiciously empty of cars. Fallen leaves, already withered and brittle with age blew around overfilled rubbish bins, and skips. Gangs of youths on the street corners watched impassively as Eames eased the rented Ford Mondeo into a parking space outside one of the tower blocks.

He turned to the man in the passenger seat, Arthur's pale hands were clenched around the handle of the silver briefcase in his lap. Uncharacteristically dressed down, he seemed much younger usual, closer to his true age of twenty five, except for his expression of the utmost seriousness.

"I don't like the look of this" said Eames, voicing what Arthur had evidently been thinking for most of the very quiet drive.

Arthur made a noncommittal noise in his throat and checked the gun tucked in at his hip. "I don't get it, what's Cobb playing at? We've come all this way and I'm still not sure what- sorry, who, we're really looking for." He shook his head.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just have to take Cobb at his word, I've stopped wondering what's going through his head _long_ ago."

"Just easier that way I guess" Arthur smiled suddenly, checked his weapon again and stepped into the street.

Eames followed suit, stretching his arms above his head, glad to be out of the cramped car after two days drive.

"Ha," said Arthur, seeing Eames rolling his tense shoulders "Now you're cramping up too, I told you we should've rented a bigger car."

"What an' risk being seen in a Jaguar or E-class around these parts? Not on your life darlin'. Trust me, you'd turn your back on something like that for one second and some punk'll be taking the hub caps off." He smiled fondly, remembering his own rather misspent youth.

"point taken, now, what building is it?" Arthur looked around at the multitude of identical high and mid-rises which made up the estate wondering how on earth Eames seemed to know exactly where he was going, then, hurried after him.

The Walsh Building was one of the larger blocks of flats, rising gunmetal grey, dirty and massive from the ground. At least fifty stories high it was a testament to nineteen sixties brutalist architecture. Textured concrete and Fort Knox doors, Eames keyed in the code and the front door swung open like a safe, the two men stepped inside.

"Flat number 487" said Arthur, checking the piece of paper with the particulars which Cobb had given them as he sent them out on what Arthur was beginning to him was a wild goose chase.

"Right, we're taking the lift" The two men continued down the hall until they came to the stair well where three women in headscarfs were chatting softly in Urdu, for the sake of politeness Eames tried not to eaves droop as they waited for the lift. Arthur's dark eyes shifted left and right across the vandalised walls, taking everything in, his grip on the briefcase increased as several young men sauntered down the hall towards them and the women. They all looked a little worse for wear although is was only three in the afternoon, the sun's pale rays shafting though the shatterproof glass of the entry hall windows, bleaching the colour out of everything like an over exposed photograph.

The men seemed to be sharing quite a good joke, slapping each other on the back, their voices and laughter echoing down the hall, reverberating in the confined space. Arthur noted the man in front, who seemed to be leading, he was slightly apart from his younger comrades eyeing both men suspiciously.

Eames cast an eye over them and shifted his stance ever so slightly, turning away from them, not inviting conversation.

"So," he said to Arthur quietly, we do exactly as Cobb said, up to the flat, ask for "Wheeler", whoever the hell that is, and then hand over the money. Not a word about what we're getting in return."

"Who, you mean" replied Arthur, under his breath.

"Exactly, but this guy thinks he's been bugged, so not a word about anything while we're in the flat. He know's who we've come for, even if we don't ourselves."

"Why the hell couldn't Cobb have done this himself?" whispered back Arthur, stabbing at the lift button agin in irritation. "He won't even tell us _why_ he's buying this person and who from!"

"I know, its not like Cobb to be so secretive, my guess is he's a little out of his depth, I mean, its not really his usual area of business is it."

"not at all, and he doesn't seem likely to exchange the dreams for some kind of trafficking ring gig."

"Not at all, I dunno, but I'm pretty sure he'll have his reasons for keeping us in the dark, even if I have to _encourage_ him to divulge these reasons to us at a later date" Even though Arthur knew that Eames would rather cut off his hand than raise it against his oldest friend, he had to suppress a shiver at the dark undercurrent in his voice.

The lift came and everybody crowded inside. Arthur and Eames went right to the back still trying to avoid the pointed stares of the drunken men, who had stopped laughing now and were muttering between themselves.

Arthur felt rather than saw their eyes straying to the briefcase in his hand, and tightened his grip again, glad of the gun in his waistband, concealed under his shirt but within easy reach.

The lift doors opened and everyone disembarked, leaving the forger and the point man mercifully alone with the briefcase full of cash. Eames paced up and down as the lift rose ever higher.

"What reasons would Cobb have for wanting this person, they can't be in the business, unless we're paying a randsom."

"In which case I'll be having a talk with Cobb myself, he could have told us that earlier."

"I don't think it's that, no reason to keep it to himself in that case. Maybe we're recruiting, having Siato on the team was a good extra pair of hands maybe he wants that permanent." Eames checked the floors scrolling past, 34.

"God this is slow, I don't think its recruitment. If it was we would've been consulted and anyway, why would Cobb want someone he had to pay for. Someone _English _as well, doesn't make sense for us to travel all this way."

Eames raised his eyebrows, "Hey, don't insult the old country darl…" he flashed a grin "It's a mystery alright"

PING. Floor fifty.

A/N its my first _ever_ fic please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- I do not own Inception (so sad!)

Ch. 2 Defection

They exited, Arthur glancing left and right as they entered the new corridor. No one was around but the smell of sweat and piss mixing with the undercurrent of weed and stale cigarettes was cut through strongly with the reek of bleach. As they neared apartment 487 Eames caught sight of a large red-brown stain on the walls and floor. It had been mostly scrubbed of the linoleum but still clung stubbornly on to the off-white dragged walls. An elderly cleaning lady in an apron with a hairnet over her blue rinse was grimly mopping, periodically adding more bleach to her already foaming bucket.

Apartment 487 was easily identified although the plaque was torn off the door. Unlike those around it, the door sported two iron grills and an impressive collection of locks, there was a small peep-hole set into the door and no letterbox.

"Thats going to be inconvenient come christmas time" joked Eames, indicating the door.

"Maybe the guy really hates carollers" replied Arthur, rapping smartly on the grill. The clanging of metal on metal reverberated around the cold space.

Nothing happened so Arthur knocked again, this time harder.

"I''m coming you impatient git!" Growled a voice from the other side of the door. The voice continued to ruminate darkly as keys jangled and scraped in locks.

The inner door swung open to reveal a heavy-set man in a slightly dirty wife-beater. He had the beefy body of a heavyweight boxer gone slightly to seed, a paunch spilling over the waistband of his jeans but the bulk of his arms and shoulders was not to be ignored.

Nor was the sawn-off shotgun he had levelled at them. Arthur's hand twitched towards his own gun, but Eames stayed him with a sharp look.

"Hello" he began with a smile, "We're here to see a man named Wheeler"

The man eyed them for a moment, taking in the briefcase and Eames's tweed jacket. "Aye, and your business?"

"I was told that you know why we're here." The silence between the two parties stretched then snapped.

Wheeler smiled, revealing several missing teeth. "Spose' I do then." He lowered the shotgun and unlocked the grills.

The flat was cramped, flashy TV set jostling for room with two old and stained settees and several armchairs. This living room also served as a hallway beyond which Eames assumed were the bedrooms, to the left was the doorway to the kitchen, this was obscured with the thick strips of plastic sheeting often seen in supermarket cool rooms or butcher's shops. A rather unpleasant chemical smell emanated from beyond the doorway along with the loud sound of running water confirmed it to both men as a working meth operation.

Arthur raised his eyebrows at Eames as he took in the scene as if to say _what the fuck are we doing here?_

Eames shrugged then turned back to Wheeler indicating to Arthur to give him the money. Wheeler reached out for it eagerly but at the last moment Arthur pulled it back slightly.

"We want to see it" said Eames, Wheeler looked puzzled for a moment before nodding in agreement and turning down the hall. Neither man had followed when he turned and looked over his shoulder.

"It?" queried Arthur.

"You can never be too vague with a man when he think's his lab is being bugged. Whatever Cobb wants us to get is here and he knows what it is. I just don't want to leave empty handed."

A thump and a short scream punctuated his speech followed by a sharp crack. "_stand still ya little bitch!_" they heard Wheeler growl. Both men started reaching for their weapons again but before they could do anything, Wheeler reappeared dragging with him a girl in handcuffs. She was small, both short and skinny and dressed inappropriately for the freezing December temperatures in a white spaghetti-strap top and terry-cloth shorts. She didn't have any shoes and Arthur saw that her feet were covered in fresh cuts and bruises as though they had been stamped on. When Wheeler let her go she clenched her jaw in pain and swayed dangerously before sinking to her knees with a low hiss.

"Here it is, just as requested" said Wheeler with an air of great pride.

"Hmmm" said Arthur "How do we know its the right one?"

Wheeler shuddered suddenly, a strange movement for such a big and imposing man. "Your employer who called about it, he'll know when he sees it. Really its no skin off my back to sell it, gives me the creeps and frigid as anything. But-" He reached out for the money again "There's no accounting for taste."

"There really isn't" agreed Eames.

Arthur handed over the cash and went to the girl. "Can we have the keys to the handcuffs please?" Only year of professional self-control stopped his voice shaking with anger. The girl didn't look at him as he took the key from a smiling Wheeler and undid the cuffs. For a moment she stayed completely still as he slid the cuffs off her bruised wrists and handed them to Wheeler.

Then, she snapped into action. Quick as lightning she slipped her hand underneath Arthur's jacket and T-shirt to find the gun concealed underneath. Before Arthur could catch her arm, she whipped around and fired a shot at Wheeler.

He hit the floor with a thud that made the floor shake. Both Eames and Arthur stood stock-still with shock and watched as the girl checked Wheeler's pulse. It was hardly necessary as the bullet was lodged right between his eyes, fine mist of blood dripping from the plastic butcher's strips over the kitchen doorway. Straitening up she picked up the briefcase case and offered it back to Arthur who took it silently. Both men watched as she slipped into the kitchen like a ghost a moment later she stuck a hand out through the curtain and beckoned them impatiently.

The kitchen, to use that term loosely, was a real mess. The sink was running, spewing water through the meth apparatus and eventually out of an open window. Bottles and boxes of the raw materials littered every flat surface along with empty fast-food boxes and soft-drink bottles. Eames approached the girl as she sat beside a grey safe set into the wall where the oven should be. As he watched she unlocked it and swung it open to reveal stacks of bills inside along with vacuume packed pill packets. The two men watched her quickly transfer all of the money from the safe to a plastic holdall at her side. When she had finished she turned to face them. "Drag him in here" she said. Her voice was very soft, as though she rarely used it. Eames didn't hesitate but turned and left, leaving Arthur alone with the girl.

"Are you alright?" he asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left his lips.

She nodded, her blue eyes flicked up to meet his for a second and then she turned away again.

Eames returned with the body, dragging the big man as easily as a sack of potatoes across the floor, "About here?" he asked? She nodded and he dropped Wheeler unceremoniously on the lino.

"We need to leave" said the girl, wincing as she stood, Arthur noted a slight Irish lilt to her voice, a reluctance to say her "T"s

"What do you mean" he asked.

She shook her head giving nothing away, peroxide blond hair shaking with her, Then she pushed the stuffed holdall towards him to take. He picked it up and watched as she limped over to the counter and began searching through the bottles "We do need to get out of here sooner rather than later you said" Arthur reminded her, drumming his fingers against the bag and checking that his gun was properly concealed this time, how had she seen it?

She didn't reply, just picked up a bottle of clear liquid, unscrewed the cap and sniffed it. Seemingly satisfied she emptied it across the floor followed by a large box of red powder on which was written _Danger- Flammable. _The fumes from the clear liquid were making Arthur's eyes sting and water.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" Hissed Eames making to grab her hand as she reached for a box of matches.

She looked at him, as though he were an idiot. "accidents happen" She lit a match and put it to an empty fast food box, then set the box on the the floor and limped out of the kitchen.

Their exit was swift. Eames went first with the briefcase, still unopened despite all the excitement, the girl next, now limping very badly on her bruised feet, Arthur brought up the rear. They walked most of the way down the corridor, the old lady cleaning the walls was gone but her bucket and mop still remained, overturned on the floor flooding the corridor with water and suds. They began to run, Arthur putting his arm around the girl's tiny waist and helping her down the endless flights of stairs as behind them a huge _crash_ rent the air. A wave of heat and the stench of chemicals followed, rolling over them like the breath of a dragon.

After the initial noise had receded into the distance Eames could make out the clatter of many pairs of feet following them down the steps. _Stop! Get back 'ere! _They ran yet faster _floor 30, floor 25, floor 15, floor 10. _Arthur was half carrying the girl now, her feet leaving a bloody trail behind them.

Shots rang out, sparking in the dark.

As they rounded the corner for floor 5, the girl shot off in the opposite direction, dragging Arthur with her with surprising strength. "Where you going?" both men shouted after her but she ran on. The footsteps and shouting came ever closer overhead, it seemed to come from all directions now as though their pursuers had fanned out to look for them.

"In here" The girl whispered, pushing open the door to a flat, the lock had been recently broken leaving splinters across the floor.

They hustled inside and the girl went straight for the window in the front room. The flat was a mess, belongings strewn all over the floor here draws had been pulled out and electrical wires exposed in the walls. A recent burglary. In the front room the girl pulled back the glass separating the living room from the balcony and stepped out. Eames caught her arm "What are you doing?"

She smiled briefly, "watch". Slipping from his grasp she went over the railings. They watched as she disappeared from sight until just her hands were visible, hanging onto the bottom of the bars. Then, she let go.

Eames and Arthur lent as far as they dared over the railing , trying to work out where she'd gone. Then they head her voice. "Down here!"

They looked and there she was, waving from the balcony on the floor below.

"Right," Arthur, rolling up his leaves "One of us should go first ad then the other will lower the bags."

"Jeysus" muttered Eames running his hands through his hair distractedly, he hated heights and was already uncomfortable on the balcony. _Its just like a dream Eames, man up. "_Right y' are._"_

The thin ledge of the balcony below swayed in Eames's vision as he gingerly lowered himself down the bars "hurry up!" hissed the girl grabbing his feet and tugging "Oi! watch it" he hissed back, breath catching in his chest.

As the unlikely trio descended slowly down the building two large fire engines pulled up below. They could see smoke coming out of the windows of the 48th floor.

Leaping to the ground at last they sprinted, Arthur again almost carrying the girl, to the car. Eames revved the engine and with a squeal of breaks they sped out of the estate.

A/N Its Drama o' clock! please review


	3. Chapter 3

p.s. I don't own anything!

* * *

><p>3. Reflection<p>

Arthur was still breathing hard as they reached the motorway, one hand clenched around the silver briefcase and the other around the girl's waist. She was shaking, whether with fear or pain he did not know.

"Hey" he patted her arm, she looked up and realising how close he was, she moved away sharply. "Hey there, no need to be frightened" she didn't look convinced, "I'm Arthur, up front is my friend Eames, he's English too…" no response so he tried a more direct approach "Whats your name?". The girl looked him up and down as though sizing him up "Gia" she whispered.

"Like the 80's supermodel?" he asked, she nodded. Arthur noticed that she was still shivering badly. "Are you cold?" she wasn't wearing much and it was already december, the skies outside the car were pale grey and threatening snow.

Again came the nod. Arthur gave her his jacket "Thanks" she said quietly.

For about two hours no one spoke, Arthur saw Eames's knuckles were stark white gripped on the steering wheel to stop them from shaking. It had started to snow. Fat white flakes drifting down outside and flattening themselves to the windows. A while later they came to a traffic jam, the announcer on radio 4 mentioned a six car pile-up on the M4 to London.

They waited, edging infinitesimally forward towards the next exit off the motorway whilst ahead of them thousands of cars did the same. The snow became heavier, shifting down like flour through a sieve.

"We're going to have to drive through the night at this rate." groaned Eames running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"We'll stop at the next service station" replied Arthur, "see if this traffic won't clear up a little and umm… maybe get you some shoes" he added to Gia who was turned to the window. She didn't react, seemingly not hearing him. Arthur glanced at her and saw a large dark bruise forming on her pale temple.

"Hey," he shook her shoulder slightly to no effect "Hey!" he shook her harder, fear tightening in his chest.

"Arthur whats going on?" Eames asked worriedly from the front seat.

"She's not waking up. Damn it!" he swore. He patted her cheeks and shook her again "Gia! Gia! Wake up!"

"Mmmm?" her eyelids flickered and she took a deep intake of breath. Arthur relaxed with relief still holding her tight by the shoulders.

"Get _off_ me!" Her shriek was so loud and sudden that Arthur recoiled instantly, but not quickly enough to avoid a slap to the face.

"Ouch!" he cried "What the hell?" his cheek burned where she had hit him. She was curled up in the very furthest corner of the car from him. A hunted look in her dark blue eyes. "Hey hey hey, its ok, its all right" he tried to assure her "We're not here to hurt you." She gave him another mistrustful look, skinny arms around her knees which he noted were scuffed and dirty much like the rest of her.

"We alright back there now?" Asked Eames, a slight note of amusement colouring his cockney tones.

"Yeah" replied Arthur, rubbing his cheek "Are you ok? Thats quite the bruise you've got yourself there ." The girl, Gia, touched her face, as though she hadn't noticed the bruise forming there before and then nodded and looked away.

"Not a chatty one eh?" chortled Eames from the front. Plainly he found this all rather funny.

Finally a gap opened up in the gridlocked traffic ahead, they turned off the motorway and onto the a slipway for the rest-stop.

"Dammit" Growled Eames in frustration, circling the parking lot for the third time, "Its full."

"Stop here" piped up a voice from the back, Gia was staring intently out of the window, "They're about the leave"

Both men goggled at her as, sure enough, a large red people-carrier reversed out of a space to the left.

"How did you know they were going to leave?" asked Arthur, impressed and hoping he could keep her talking. Gia shrugged, raking her fingers through her hair trying to sort out the tangles.

Eames watched her in the rear-view mirror and had a sudden thought "Arthur, mate, we can't bring her into a _welcome break,_ lookin' like that can we. we'll 'ave to go an' buy 'er some new clothes and some shoes too. You alright to stay in the car luvie?"

"Uh hun" came the muffled reply.

It was freezing in the parking lot, snow whipped around Arthur as he staggered from the car, starting to feel the pain in his muscles from scaling the outside of the Walsh building. He stretched, rubbing his shoulders and noticed Eames doing the same.

"Its not looking too good out there" said Eames, gesturing to the highway, still jam-packed with immobile cars.

"No, and the snow is only going to come down faster from now." Arthur privately had a horror of being snowed into his car, slowly running out of air and water. "Its getting late, maybe we should stay here for the night?"

Eames looked about at the full parking lot, "If we can get a room… 'ere's a thought, we should go 'an get this girl some clothes an' a square meal." he lent down to the window "Back in a minute darlin', ok?" he asked the girl, she nodded, eyes wide, her expression seemed to Eames still to hold much of the fear they had seen as she'd shot Wheeler. He wondered what had happened to her to warrant such a revenge.

Eames and Arthur split up as they entered the rest stop, Arthur to enquire about staying for the night and Eames in search of clothes for their new charge. Eames had also bought a small first aid kit so they could fix up her poor feet. Flicking through the racks at the back of the tiny TK Maxx he wondered about what kind of clothes a girl like Gia might like.  
>She certainly couldn't keep on what she was wearing now, the tiny shorts and tank-top were hardly suitable for the middle of winter and she looked odd enough as it was. Eames wondered what her real hair colour was, someone had seen fit to dye it a cheep shade of icy blond that clashed with her naturally tanned and pink-cheeked face. How old was she? Unusually for Eames, who made his living by observing those around him, he couldn't tell. She could be anywhere from her teens to her mid-twenties, a smooth, unlined face and a lack of curves, which, Eames suspected came from a lack of food rather than under development, made her true age indeterminate.<br>He wondered if she would be offended by being bought child-sized clothes. Eames deliberated momentarily between a black jumper and one the exact colour of her eyes when he realised something that made his hands tremor in a wave of dread which he himself could not explain.

In all the time he had watched her in the rear-view mirror, three hours of studying this new and beguiling face in the car, he had yet to see her blink.

* * *

><p>"Yes 'mam I understand you've had a lot of requests today about rooms but I was <em>wondering <em>if there was any alternative." Arthur was quickly running out of patience with the woman at the motel desk. She tapped her acrylic nails against the keyboard, searching for rooms which had become available.

"No, there is only the one room available for tonight." She replied, fishing around in her mouth for her used-up chewing gum before throwing it away.

Arthur ran both hands through his hair in frustration before answering. "How many beds are there?" The woman looked non-plussed, "I mean, is t a twin room or is there only a double bed?"

Comprehension dawned across the motel woman's heavily made-up face, lifting her wrinkles and exposing the rouge which had sunken in-between the cracks, "Double bed… there is an _en suite…_" she said it with a french accent and reverent expression.

"And thats _all _there is? You're sure?" She nodded "I'll take it then." There would be some explaining to do to Eames and the girl but Arthur was definitely not prepared to get back into that cramped car again, especially not with the traffic the way it was.

"That'll be twenty three pounds love" chirped the woman at the the desk, all pretence at boredom abandoned as she goggled at the black Amex card he produced "We only take… visa". She sighed as Arthur put away the Amex.

What the hell were the others going to say?

Arthur soon found out, cornering Eames as he exited the TK Maxx with a bulging shopping bag he explained to him the situation.

"No fucking way" were Eames's first words, he shook his head firmly "I'm not sharing a hotel room with that… girl" he said girl the way most people said _monster. _

"Why? What's wrong that?" Asked Arthur, never before knowing Eames to have any qualms about sharing a room with a person of the female persuasion, if fact more often then not the opposite was true.

"You mean what wrong with" Eames's voice dropped to a whisper "The killer girl in the back seat! She's fucked up, I just know it, we'll be murdered in out beds Artie, mark my words."

"Eames" The point man gave the forger a stern and worried look, "She's not a killer pshyco, just a girl with a score to settle, thats all, I'll bet Wheeler deserved what he got in the end."

"Yeah yeah, I'm not doubting _that_, its just that… I watch people yeah? and I've been watching her from the first moment we saw 'er in the flat, all broken up an' dirtily an' the like. An' again in the car, she's a weird one, there's definitely something off about 'er. She doesn't blink, like some sort of snake, thats all I'm sayin' " Eames put up his hands in surrender, "But, if you think this is our _only_ option then I'm willing to listen"

"She doesn't blink you say? Are you sure you haven't missed her at it?"

Eames raised an eyebrow "Its my job not to miss this kind of stuff, you watch 'er Arthur, you'll see what I mean."

The two men walked back to the car, jostled by the hoards of tourists heading the other direction, even more snow was coming down now, starting to blanket the ground in a crunchy, slippery layer. The traffic hadn't moved on at all, Arthur had been right.

They found Gia almost as they'd left her, curled up in the car, arms around knees, staring out of the window. Both men stopped and looked at her, looking at them. It was a long moment, and, as predicted, she did not blink. "See?" whispered Eames, "_Pshyco killer_"

Even though she couldn't possibly hear his words from the other side of the glass, Gia tipped her head as though listening, a small frown creasing her forehead. Then, with excruciating slowness as though to prove she could, she blinked, the effect was more like a puppet fluttering its horsehair eyelashes than any normal facial expression but it was enough for Arthur, who breathed a sigh of relief "See Eames, she's not some kind of freak" Eames looked unconvinced but resigned, opening the door and offering the girl the bag of clothes. "I didn't know what size you were or actually if you're still into Dora the Explorer, probably not but you've now got a Dora T-shirt all of your very own."

"Thanks…" the girl riffled through the bag, putting on the black jumper Eames had provided. It dwarfed her frame and came part way down her thighs.

"We'll uhh, give you some privacy to get dressed shall we?" asked Arthur, moving away from the car politely.

"Mr. Eames?" The forger started at being addressed so formally.

"Yes?"

"Who's Dora the Explorer?"

"Ahh, you've never heard of her?"

Gia shook her head.

"Well, get your kit on and Artie and I will take you for a slap up meal inside, can explain all about it there."

The girl smiled up at him, those blue eyes which had so shaken his, catching the light and the forger felt, against his better judgement some of his misgivings melting away.


	4. Chapter 4

4. Reevaluation

A quarter of an hour later all three were ensconced at the rest stop's one and only real-food restaurant, the alternatives being MacDonald's and a particularly scabby-looking KFC.

The forger and the point man regarded their charge across the table, Gia sat with her foot on the chair, her leg folded against her chest.

"Here" said Arthur, offering her a menu. He was starting to feel highly uncomfortable under her insistent gaze, underdressed now he was out of his habitual business suit. He glanced at Eames who, noticing his discomfort gave him an _I told you so _expression.

"So darlin', tell us about yourself" began Eames, always one to make conversation.

"What's to say?" she replied, seemingly genuinely curious at the question.

"How 'bout you start with your full name?"

"_You_ wouldn't." she said. Eames furrowed his brow before shifting slightly in his seat, Arthur saw him open up his posture to make himself look more approachable and honest, a forging trick he'd seen Eames pull a thousand times before.

"Maybe not, but… whats to hide?" one hand palm up on the table, trustworthy without overdoing it.

Gia looked at him for a moment, like he was stupid or something then, putting both feet on the floor she leaned in towards Eames as though she was about to whisper a secret, both men leaned towards her to catch it.

"Everything to hide, Thomas" Eames's eye's widened and his mouth dropped open slightly in shock.

"How did you know my name?" He asked her, evenly, the shock gone from his face as soon as it had arrived. There was that slight darkness to his tone which had earlier made Arthur repress a shudder.

Gia said nothing for almost a full minute then, "_Everything to hide_." and she spoke no more.

Lunch passed slowly, Arthur ordering for Gia when everyone realised she hadn't looked at the menu. Eames was abstracted, fiddling with the cutlery, fingers drumming on the table top, tapping his foot until Arthur could have kicked him. They both watched Gia eat, the girl was thin to the point where it was actually vaguely disgusting, Arthur had felt every rib and the raw edge of her pelvis as he'd helped her down the stairs and her wrists poking out of the jumper managed to be both tiny and sinewy but also look massive with barely-covered bone. She ate excruciatingly slowly, hands shaking slightly, she made up every spoonful with precisely the same small amount of soup. Neither the forger nor the point man could tell weather she relished or loathed it.

As soon as the men had finished eating, she set down her spoon as well even though she was only just half way done with the soup. Her hands were still shaking slightly although she clasped them together to suppress it.

"Its ok you know," said Arthur "We'll wait"

Gia shook her head but smiled a little.

The waitress for their section bustled over. She was a big lady, middle aged and schoolmarmish with mid brown hair piled on top of her head and a spare tire concealed under her clean, white apron.

"So dearies, would you like any pudding? I'm afraid we're all out of ice-cream except for the strawberry." She looked expectantly at Gia for an answer, "what do you think dearie?"

"Sorry, I'm allergic." Gia mumbled, flushing slightly. The waitress turned to Eames.

"Sorry, I'm the same" said Eames smiling placatingly as the woman visibly bristled.

Arthur was now under the full force of the waitress's expectation, he scratched the bak of his neck, wishing he'd worn a suit and didn't look so bloody young, "Ermm… not for me thanks" The woman stalked off without another word, as though the rejection was a personal insult.

Arthur turned to Gia, who was still clenching her hands together, "You're allergic to strawberries huh? Anything else?" She seemed to consider him before answering, sizing him up.

"penicillin, maybe."

"maybe?"

"Its genetic, me mum was."

"Ah." Something in Gia's sort voice told Arthur not to ask about dad.

While the unlikely trio had been eating, the sky darkened outside, the storm clouds dumping more snow onto the hapless cars stuck in traffic on the road below. The cars all started blurring into one another under the weight of the whiteness, like a herd of shuffling snowmen. The lights were starting to come on along the motorway, bathing the scene in their orange glow, bleaching the remaining colours from the landscape. Gia wondered what the two men were planning to do about tonight, sleep in the car? It would certainly be an improvement on her last resting place, Wheeler had salvaged a large baby's crib from a rubbish dump, ripped out the rotting mattress and fitted a metal grill for a lid. She wouldn't have minded so much if he didn't also use the flat for cooking meth, too many nights she'd lain awake praying that she didn't smell smoke or hear the sounds of exploding chemicals. She tried not to think about what would happen if there was a fire, Wheeler would never remember to unlock the cage. The smell of burning flesh and the oily smell of the chemicals haunted her dreams, every night she woke up with the scabs on her knuckles broken open from beating at the metal grille above her. It was on some of those nights that her screams would wake Wheeler from his drunken slumber and he would throw his shadow through the doorway of her room and shake the sides of the crib until her teeth rattled in her skull and her ears were ringing from the impact.

"Hey" a voice was calling from far off it seemed to Gia, so entrenched she was in memories "Hey!" Her head snapped up and she saw Eames, the forger, allergic to strawberries, waving at her.

"What?"

"Are you ok" he asked.

Gia nodded, mutely. Her hands were hurting.

"No you're not. Whats going on?"

"What do you care?" Gia's guard came up like the hackles on a startled dog.

"Regardless of what I think, your hands are bleeding." Gia looked down and saw that he was right, her scabs had broken again, when would they ever stop? She'd even got blood on the starched white table cloth and her napkin.

"Oh." Sometimes Gia wondered if she wanted it hard enough she could just become invisible, so far it hadn't worked. Not with mum, not with the nuns at the orphanage, not with the prying social workers, not with the men who came at night, not with Wheeler and certainly not with Eames. In fact the man was looking at her as she hadn't been looked at in years. Really trying to see something, like he was searching for something in her eyes or written on her face, it was like being under a microscope. But not in the way that it had been with the social workers or nuns, they'd already known what they were looking for and had only seen her as a confirmation of their theory, that she was a freak, a demon, the devil's child, something broken far beyond repair.

Eames didn't know what he was looking at yet, neither man did, Gia almost felt sorry for them, as soon as they did know everything would be different. No more searching looks, once people knew Gia's secrets, she really did become invisible. She considered it her life's great irony.

"I've got some…" Eames started rummaging in the first aid kit "Bandaids, there you go, just what you need." He passed them over smiling, Gia did a little bit of her own staring, looking into his eyes in the exact way which she knew he hated. Everyone hated it. He looked away.

"Thanks."

Arthur put down his coffee, and reached over the table towards Gia, instinctively she shrank back putting her hands under table.

"Hey, its ok… just let me see it."

"What?"

"Your hands, is that alright?"

Gia extended one hand, still un-Bandaided, across the table towards Arthur. He took it gently, his own hands very warm holding the coffee mug. His fingerers ghosted across her bleeding fingers and knuckles, he took a napkin and wiped the worst of the blood off.

"When did you first get these cuts?"

"When I first got in that flat, maybe a month ago… lost track of time."

"Right, thats a long time to have open cuts like this… well, before you get those band-aids on you might wants some antiseptic, that flat didn't look the cleanest."

Eames dug some out from the depths of the first aid kit and handed it over. He looked like he was working up to asking something a little awkward.

Finally he got it out.

"Gia," she looked at him, away from the nasty gel that Arthur was putting on her hand. "Yes?"

"How old are you?"

"Is this because of the Dora the Explorer jumper?"

"Umm, not really, I was just wondering…" The forger ran his hands through his hair, a strangely unguarded movement for someone who had every aspect of their body language under control.

"That depends… whats the date?"

"The date?"

She nodded.

"The fifteenth of December."

"Then I'm twenty, just"

"Right… a bit too old for Dora then…you really are the smallest twenty-year-old I've ever met, usually I'm quite good at guessing age."

"Don't feel bad. I wasn't fed much as a kid"

Eames laughed for a moment. Then he raised an eyebrow, "That wasn't a joke was it."

"Nope." Gia hissed in pain as Arthur applied antiseptic to a particularly large cut.

"You ok?" Eames asked.

"Yeah."

"You're doing really well, very brave."

"Thanks… or something"

"Or something." he chuckled. He turned to Arthur who was now fixing the last Band-aid "So, while we're on the subject of _bravery,_ are you join to tell us where we're sleeping tonight?"

"Oh… right" A dull flush coloured Arthur's cheeks momentarily, _thats not like Arthur _thought Eames, usually the point man was utterly unflappable in the face of difficult business, maybe it was the lack of a suit which had got him out of sorts.

Arthur who had braved another altercation with the hotel receptionist only to be told there was still only one room to be had, was not looking forward to telling Eames that he was going to be sleeping in the same room as "killer psyco" and also telling Gia that she had to spend the night in a room with two men, he had a feeling this wasn't her idea of fun. He felt a bit hard done by, why had Eames got the easy job, shopping at TKMAXX, honestly, any fool could pick out a few clothes, not many could have held out for so long against the receptionist from hell. If there was one thing that made Arthur uncomfortable, the was failure, and this time he had certainly come a cropper.

"There's only one room, so Eames and I will have to sleep on the floor."

"Like I say," smiled Eames as an aside to Gia "_useless_, our Arthur."

A/N Thanks every one who's stuck with this story, I know the updating is really really slow, Im at school most of the time and fanficiton is blocked there (!) I should have a new chapter or two ready in a few days xoxox


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own inception, so sad!

Chapter 5. Insomnia

The motel room was even more cramped then any of the three had cared to imagine. A tiny double bed with a sagging mattress took up most of the available floor space, a small brown couch and surprisingly swanky television set took up the remaining room. A door lead onto a minuscule and dirty _en suit_ bathroom for which they were expected to pay a premium price. Snow flurried like driving rain against the panes of the single window, outside the orange glow of the highway lights reflected against the fresh snow to revealed the hundreds of trapped cars, exhaust fumes blurring the scene slightly as Gia stared out at it.

"You're glad not to out there aren't you" she said in an undertone, almost to herself, as Arthur joined her at the window. His head whipped around, his eyes sharp. She avoided his gaze, picking at the Band-aid, Arthur reached out to stop her but pulled his hand back before he touched her.

"What… what did you say?" Arthur felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

"Nothing." Gia turned away from the window, swiftly.

She crossed the room, picking up the little toiletries bag Eames had bought her in Boots, and locked her self in the bathroom.

When the two men heard the key turning in the lock, they turned to each other.

"What's wrong with her do you think?" asked Eames, his voice as soft as a moth in the semi-darkness.

Arthur shuddered, "I don't know, she killed a man today, that's got to have something to do with it. She gives me the creeps somehow."

"Not so tough now that you have to share a room with her eh?" Eames smiled with uncharacteristic bitterness, his full lips twisting.

"What do _you_ think's wrong with her?" asked Arthur, shrugging on a jumper over his white wife-beater.

"I dunno, years of mistreatment by the looks of 'er, Ariadnie will have a field day feeding her up."

"Yeah, I hope so, how do you think we're meant to get her out of the country? Its not like she's got a passport."

"Search me," sighed Eames, stretching out on the couch which he'd automatically claimed as his own. Arthur gave him a withering look and started collecting cushions so that he could sleep on the floor. "Some how, Arthur, I get the feeling that its not going to be a problem, she got us out of that building remember?"

"Yeah, that was…" the memory of the gaping abyss stretching up to meet him as he dropped for balcony to balcony tugged at his mind for a moment. "It was like being in the dream, doing all the things we do when we're not afraid of death."

"Well put darling, although terrifying summed it all up for me. Never again."

The bathroom door opened for a moment, spilling light across their two forms. Eames twisted around to look at the girl standing framed in the doorway, for a moment she smiled, her expression almost wistful and to his sleep-veiled eyes she seamed for that moment achingly familiar. She stood there and regarded them for a moment, drinking in the scene in front of her, Arthur already almost asleep, curled up on the floor with his hand-gun just poking out from underneath the pillow; Eames staring straight back at her from the couch his expression inscrutable.

"Night" Gia whispered

"Sleep well" whispered back Eames. Arthur let out a small snore from his prone position on the floor and for a moment the girl smiled again. Eames felt the same inkling of recognition before she turned away into the darkness.

Eames settled back into the sofa, he could hear the bed rustling as Gia settled down and started thinking again about this girl's strange provenance. Where was she from? And what was it about her that made both him and Arthur, full-grown men and trained dream workers, so dreadfully uneasy? Something in her unwavering stare, the stillness with which she sat and her constant deadpan manner made Eames feel as though she knew something they didn't. But, what did she have to hide, they had rescued her after all?

He let his mind wade through the events of the day. Traveling to the estate, him and Arthur getting along better than usual, the point-man returning his banter with enthusiasm, then their arrival at about half past three in the afternoon. The shadows were already lengthening at that point, so short were the winter days. He should have known that something was wrong from the start. The gang of men with their intense-looking leader getting into the lift had raised the hairs on the back of Eames's neck at the time but he'd put it out of his mind, trying to focus on the job in hand. He chastised himself, of course they were the one's who had been chasing them as they'd left the apartment. Drug dealers who had the kind of money they'd found in Weeler's apparent were seldom unprotected. The gang had probably known that they'd been there on business and had been put on a look out.

The sequences of events began scrolling across Eames's field of vision like morbid Kodak Carrousel, the estate, the girl, the shooting, the weight of Wheeler's body in his hands and the red streak across the floor as they'd dragged him, the burning apartment. He gripped the thin coverlet as adrenaline began seeping into his system as he relived the chase out of the building. How had they survived? Eames let out a shaky breath as he thought over how lucky they'd been. From somewhere in the darkness an alarm clock beeped as the hour changed. Twisting around so that he could see the face he read the tiny numbers to be 1:00 AM. He swore under his breath and rolled over to try and get some sleep.

As the number on the clock scrolled ever closer to 3:00 AM, Eames abandoned any attempt at rest for the time being. Everything was quiet; the occasional drip of a tap in the bathroom and snore from Arthur was all that disturbed the peace. He got up, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch and stretching his back. After a few satisfying clicks Eames headed for the bathroom. He groped momentarily for the light switch, stubbing his toe in the dark, finding the light switch at last and flicking it on he almost leapt out of his skin. Gia was lying curled up in the tiny cracked bathtub. Her skinny arms around her knees and her hair all over her face. Eames clapped a hand over his chest, trying to steady his thudding heart for a moment before shaking her awake. As soon as his hand touched her back she jumped and scrambled away from him.

"Hey hey hey" Eames murmured, trying to calm her. She didn't seem to want to be calmed and cringed away again at the sound of his voice with a whimper of terror. "Its ok Gia, I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe." Having run out of soothing platitudes Eames climbed into the tub next to her and put an arm around her shaking shoulders to stop her running off at the next opportunity.

"What's wrong 'eh?" he asked after a moment after Gia has stopped shivering.

She raised her head, peeking out at him through her bleached fringe. She shook her head mutely, eyes full of tears.

"Come on, something's up." Eames countered.

Gia cleared her throat, breathing deeply, "I had a dream… or something… about the flat and that guy. I feel sick about it."

Taken aback, Eames fell silent for a moment, rubbing her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "What you did, it was right, he deserved it for what he did to you… It'll get better, we're going to take you somewhere really nice, back to the States"

She looked up at him, big blue eyes boring into his until he had to look away. "I mean it, its a good place, we'll take care of you, feed you up a bit." He chuckled and squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled a bit.

"I'd like that, never been to the States."

"Where have you been?" asked Eames. She glanced at him, catching on to his digging.

"The Russia mostly, but I was born in Ireland and lived with my mum's family until I was five. She died you see."

"Oh, I'm sorry, when was that?"

"I was about one so I never knew her… I was adopted and then we moved to the Ukraine, the husband was in the army. But when I was ten, I had to go back in an orphanage…" he raised his eyebrows for her to continue.

"That's it." she wiped her runny nose on her sleeve.

"I'm very sorry." said Eames softly. He noticed the girl's eyelids drifting shut between sentences. "Come on. Off to bed, I'll carry you if you want."

"I'm not a baby" she said, smiling slightly "But I do love the Dora t-shirt"

Eames got out of the bath and helped her out, she nearly came up to his chest and again he got the feeling like he knew her face from somewhere, He searched her face and she raised her eyebrows, questioningly.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Come on." he steered her out of the bathroom and took her back to bed. "In you get darling" he said and she clambered in, drawing the covers up to her chin and peeking over owlishly.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, crouching down so he didn't tower over her. She sat up a bit, regarding him again.

"You're very kind… sorry for waking you."

"Its quite alright sweetie, I wasn't asleep." He smiled "Good night."

"Good night Mr. Eames" she replied and snuggled down. She looked very young to him then, curled up under the duet and he felt a surge of protectiveness towards her that took him by surprise. She was certainly very able to take care of her self as she'd already proved to them, but her vulnerability was just as apparent.

As Eames settled back down on the couch to the sound of Arthur's continuing snoring he knew that sleep would never come. For one thing Gia's scared little face was starting to haunt him every time he closed his eyes, something about her was definitely uncanny, he just couldn't place her face even though he was sure he'd seen her somewhere before.

For another thing he had tomorrow to worry about, smuggling the girl out of the country past the boarder police and he was sure that they hadn't seen the last of Wheeler's gang of thugs.

What had he got himself into, no, he corrected himself, what had he let _Dom Cobb_ get him into? Sometimes, rarely, Eames wished he could leave the dream business for a quiet life, somewhere in England or Ireland where he'd spent every summer of his childhood. Yes, he though, a small but nice house, wife, two children, a good job and two holidays a year by the sea. But, he remembered with a sinking heart, it was not to be.

In the aftermath of the inception job, Cobb's team had been traveling madly across the globe to avoid the suspicions of the now defunct Cobal Engineering Company. They'd also been inundated with requests to perform more inceptions, which Arthur had pilled on his desk in their new office in New York. It was a lucrative time for them, as the only team capable of inception they were able to charge whatever they liked for their services but the complexity of each job was really taking it out of each of them. Eames wondered how Cobb, Ariadne and Yusef were getting along back in New York, the three of them must be working flat out to organize their latest job, a very complicated inception that Arthur had been contacted to do months ago but it was only recently that circumstances had been right. Eames mulled the job over in his mind, thinking about the new characters he had to forge for all the different levels, reliving his meetings with them, their speech patterns and mannerisms.

This lead his thoughts back to Gia and her familiar face. He glanced at the clock and was startled to see it read 4:00 AM. Something about her nagged at the back of his mind.

He tried to thing about the problem professionally; often Eames was asked to forge late relatives of clients using only pictures and their descendants as a guide. Over the years he had become good at recognizing the inherited characteristics between people such a facial expressions as well as those passed on through a close family relationship. His brow furrowed in concentration, trying to picture Gia's face clearly, especially the eyes, picking out the relevant information. He decided after a few minutes that it was something about the shape of her mouth and jaw that he recognized as well as her smile. Not so much her smile but the way her whole face changed and lit up when she smiled as though the sun had come out from behind the clouds. He'd known someone like that he was sure, but who? Finally, his eyes drifted shut.

Hey guys sorry for the long wait! I'm still amazed by how many people actually read the story at all by this point but also REVIEWS ARE LOOOOVE! XX


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing! (surprise surprise!)

Ch. 6

Arthur woke early the next morning, very stiff necked from lying on the floor. Eames was still asleep, sprawled on the couch _lucky bastard _though Arthur. As he raised his head off the floor he could see Gia sitting up in bed. Staring down at him.

"Good morning?" he asked, hesitantly. She looked down quickly.

"You woke me up." Her voice was soft in the gloom.

"Sorry." _How is that even possible?_ Arthur though to himself, he'd barely moved yet. He got up stretching his arms over his head and cracking his back loudly. The sound made Eames wake for a moment, mumble something incoherent, then turn over, and sink into sleep again.

"Sleep well?" asked Gia swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing, wincing slightly.

"Yeah, it was ok, floor was soft enough." He smiled slightly at her and she returned it. Arthur noticed the welts on her feet, which had been red yesterday, were now purple and black, standing out shockingly against her pale skin.

"Are you alright to walk?" he asked, motioning to her feet, she tried a few steps, wincing again.

"For now… I won't be running in any races though."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?" Arthur ventured tentatively, bending down and selecting some clothes for the day. Gia hesitated for a moment. "Doesn't matter." Arthur turned and looked at her, sitting on the arm on the couch where Eames was sleeping.

"Are you ok now?"

"Yeah. I'm ok." There was a long, awkward pause.

"So-why _were_ you in his flat?"

Gia looked at him, nonplussed for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"I mean." He felt his face heat slightly, "What did he want with you?"

"You mean _what I'm for? _Not including the obvious stuff." He frowned at her, not quite following.

"You don't know why you're here do you; why you have me."

"How do you know?"

"Wouldn't be having this conversation then would we?" Arthur sighed, thoroughly fed up with the girl's cryptic crossword answers.

"Ok. So, fill me in then." He packed the last of his clothes in his duffle bag and went to wake Eames.

"Nope." She said, quietly and sliding off the couch and into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Resisting the urge to kick something, Arthur shook Eames awake slightly more roughly than may have been strictly necessary. The next second Eames had a gun pointing in Arthur's face. Quickly recognizing Arthur he lowered it.

"Jesus Artie, what was all that about?" asked Eames, running a hand over his sleep-rumpled hair.

"Sorry, sorry, but we're going."

"Ah right. But next time-" Eames motioned to the gun in his hand "a pat on the shoulder will do just fine yeah?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

Eames stood and stretched, yawning, then checked his watch. "Jesus- what time do you call this Artie? It's the middle of the night!"

"Its six am- technically morning." Arthur shrugged selecting a shirt and waiting for Gia to come out of the bathroom.

"Is she in there?" asked Eames, jerking his head towards the door.

"Yeah. It's weird. I think she knows more about all of this than we do, she's not saying anything about it though."

"What do you think she knows?"

"Why Cobb wants her. I'm _sure_ of it."

"I'll ask her about it." Said Eames, pulling his wife-beater off over his head, Arthur noticed the tattoos he'd so often glimpsed stretching across his torso.

"See something you like?" grinned Eames, selecting a shirt and shrugging it on.

Arthur barked a laugh "The tattoos, you just had more of them than I thought."

"Yeah, well, I was quite young when I started. This one-" he pointed to the initials _M.K.D._ on his ribs "First girlfriend- I was fourteen, trying to impress her, they just kept coming after that."

"Wow" said Arthur, "that is _really_ young."

"Yeah well, I got into 'er knickers so it must have worked for her." Eames cracked a grin. "You ever get any ink?"

"Nah, haven't found anything permanent worth remembering yet." He sighed, and then smiled. "Maybe, when I'm out of the business for good- get a tattoo of the somnacin compounds somewhere"

Eames raised his eyes to heaven "Geek." Then continued to pack.

They left the rest stop after seven, taking time to have some breakfast and refuel the car. Arthur insisted on checking the weather forecast for the day before they set off to make sure that no more snow had been predicted.

"Where are we going?" Asked Gia, taking up her position in the back seat.

"London, we've got to get you a passport and a visa." Replied Eames from the driver's seat, fiddling with the radio.

"How are you going to do that?" asked Arthur, "She's got no id, no birth certificate-"

"You have so little faith in me darling, we're going to my flat and I'll whip up the papers in no time." Arthur nodded; remembering the Eames's forging abilities went far beyond his dream sharing impersonations.

The drive was quiet; the traffic from last night mostly cleared and Arthur could even see promising snatches of clear blue sky between the clouds. The occasional field on the side of the motorway was blanketed thickly in snow, crisscrossed with deer and rabbit tracks. They continued for a time until Gia piped up, her soft voice seeming louder in the confined space.

"Are we in a hurry?" she asked.

"Not particularly darling why?" replied Eames from the front.

"I wondered if we could stop for a bit, by the fields over there." Eames complied; throwing a questioning look over his shoulder but Gia was resolutely staring out of the window.

As they pulled up onto the hard shoulder, trucks rushing by perilously close to the wing mirror and Gia hopped out of the car and straight over the fence into the field. Arthur jumped out after her. "Where are you going?" he called for she had already walked a few yards away.

"Quick walk!" she called back, "Five minutes!"

"Ok!" called Arthur, _crazy girl_, he thought,_ it's freezing out here!_ He returned shivering to the car to tell Eames.

"Crazy" agreed Eames, "although after being stuck in that flat I'd want to stretch my legs too."

They waited for Gia to return, having lost sight of her against the whiteness of the snow and the dark trees rising up behind. Arthur fiddled with the radio, strains of Céline Dion fading into Miles Davis. He lent back in his seat, allowing his eyes to close for a moment as he soaked in the smooth jazz. Time seemed for Arthur to slow down suddenly stretching the saxophone riff into infinity then, just as suddenly he was being shaken awake by the movement of the car. His eyes snapped open and he realized they were driving away, Gia in the back seat, shaking snow out of her fair hair.

"Nice walk?" he asked shaking his head groggily, he must have slept badly last night on the floor.

"Yes, I haven't been outside in a long time." Gia's reply caught at his curiosity.

"How long?"

"I couldn't say, I've walked around cities for ages at night, but I haven't really been outside like that for years maybe."

"Years?" asked Eames, looking alarmed, they had turned off the motorway now into a slipway which lead to the outer London suburbs.

"Yeah." No one had much to say after that but Arthur found that he couldn't slip into sleep again, no matter how tired he felt. Anyway, it was better to be on the alert, his fingers brushed against the gun holstered at his waist and he thought again about how Gia had seemed to know instinctively that he would keep it there, sliding her hand under his shirt quick as blinking. _Maybe I should use his chest holster in future_ he mused.

Eames was off the motorway now, driving quickly, too quickly, down the slipway and into Croydon proper. Arthur took in the dilapidated high street; all pealing paint, boarded up windows and thrift shops. The only establishments seemingly doing brisk business on the cold Sunday morning were the Green Man pub and Ladbroke's.

"Nice place." Arthur commented wryly.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it Artie, anyway it's a low rent and the landlord keeps to 'imself so I'm happy." Eames pulled the car up outside a large redbrick building, an unfortunate testament to post-war architecture.

Parking swiftly, Eames got out and the others followed, Gia glancing left and right as though she expected to see someone lurking in the shadows. Arthur noticed that she was soaked through from the snow even thought the heat had been on in the car.

"Come on," he said, offering her his arm, "lets get you inside."

Eames's apartment was unexpectedly large and homey, right in the middle of the building with windows overlooking the street. Two large and squashy armchairs competed for space in the living room with a faded, cherry red sofa and a large television. Two of the walls were completely lined with bookshelves filled with slightly dusty volumes, magazines and trinkets brought back from Eames's many travels.

As Eames went to collect everything he would need to make up Gia's new passport, she and Arthur continued into the kitchen. Everything in here was just as homey as the living room, pot and pans suspended from a rack, wooden cupboards, pictures and postcards stuck to the fridge. Arthur checked the fridge and was delighted to find some milk, mysteriously fresh so he set about making mugs of tea. The water was just set to boil when Eames returned brandishing a large Tupperware box, which he set on the breakfast island counter.

"Got it, now, where's my camera? I'm going to have to get a picture of you to put in, Ok?" Gia nodded in agreement.

"Eames?" Asked Arthur, returning from the kettle with three steaming mugs of tea one of which Eames accepted with a grin of thanks, "has someone been living in your apartment?"

"Nah, I got a housekeeper, told her to come round today."

"Right." Trying not to wonder too deeply about Eames's myriad living situations around the world and the army of part-time housekeepers he must have at his employ, Arthur looked about for Gia.

She'd had wandered off and going to find her so that he could take her passport photo, Eames found her asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket. She still looked painfully young to him but he shook her awake and led her, slightly grumpy, back into the kitchen.

The whole passport making procedure wad surprisingly quick, Eames took Gia's picture, printed it, cut it to size and fitted it into a stolen passport, which he had unearthed from the box. Gia was entranced watching Eames' deft work, barely touching the seaming mug or tea Arthur put in front of her.

"How'd you learn to do that?" she asked at length.

"What? Making passports?" She nodded.

"Been doing it since school days, to make a little extra cash. I started off doing fake ids for my friends and graduated to this, much more lucrative. One of these beauties" he held up the almost completed document, blowing on the glue to get it to dry faster, "could set you back almost five hundred pounds."

"I don't have any money." Gia said quickly, fingers tightening momentarily around the teacup.

"That's alright darlin' this one's on the house." He said smiling and she relaxed.

They left the apartment just before noon heading straight for the airport, Arthur driving and Eames in the back seat next to Gia who appeared to be sleeping. Arthur didn't blame her, he'd heard her get put up and down several times during the night but in the end the comforting had fallen to Eames. At the time Arthur had pretended to be asleep as he'd heard Eames gently putting the girl to bed and although he knew the others would never know anything different he still felt like he was intruding on something, which should have been private. Unfortunately, Arthur's upbringing had never permitted him to be a heavy sleeper and the slightest disturbance left him wide-awake and alert. He was paying for it now of course; the dull headache that had started as they left the rest stop had intensified with every bump in the road or honk of a car horn.

As they were leaving the outskirts of the suburbs and trundling onto the motorway Eames suddenly called out for Arthur to stop the car.

"Wait mate, we've forgotten about the flipping cash!" two sets of eyes turned on him instantly. "Can't exactly put it in a suitcase can we?" Eames was of course talking about the duffle bag of money Gia had stolen out of Wheeler's apartment on the day of her escape. Arthur cursed, Eames was right about that. There was no way that customs would allow it. _Christ_, he thought in irritation, _this whole operation has just been one bloody thing after another_.

"What do you suggest we do with it then?" he asked.

"Pull in here" said Eames, motioning to a side street leading to what seemed to Arthur to be a nondescript business park, but with Eames you could never be sure. "I might have to pull in a few favors but I _think_ there's a man here who might be able to wash it for us"

"Wash it?" asked Gia piping up.

"Yeah, you know… money laundering. Not very legal but there you are." Eames shrugged and Gia looked confused.

"Right…"

Arthur pulled off the main drag and steered the car into a parking space near the main building. The tall and grey slab concrete construction reminded Arthur forcibly of The Walsh Building and the cramped apartment where they had met Gia yesterday. It seemed a lot longer ago to Arthur perhaps because so much had happened since. His eyes itched with tiredness but he rubbed them impatiently and followed Eames with a suitcase full of cash in each hand.

The elevator was broken so by the time Arthur had climbed five sets of steps with a heavy bag in each hand a film of sweat had broken out all over him. He wiped his brow as they rounded the last corner. This was definitely not his idea of a job well done, Arthur liked things neat, his clothes, hair and especially his work. That was why he'd left the army for dream work, it was the ultimate low-mess and high-cash job. _Until_ _now that is when you boss sends you half way across the world on a fool's errand _he thought irritably.

Eames rapped on the door and there was a great shuffling and scraping of chains from the other side. The door swung open to reveal a portly man in a shiny suit, an impressive mustache adorning his upper lip like a small rodent.

"Ello mate" he roared jovially, embracing Eames like a long-lost brother.

"Ello Marty" Eames replied, clapping the man on the back, the look in his eye was decidedly less friendly. "We've come to talk business."

Marty cast a cursory eye over the two large bags next either side of Arthur and nodded, looking up and down the corridor as if to check for spies. They trooped in as Eames made the introductions, his eyes hardening as he saw the way Marty's gaze lingered on Gia for longer than necessary.

Marty, it transpired was a friend of Eames from his document-forging days. He was one of the first buyers of his forged passports and driver's licenses.

"Always 'ad the touch our Eames did."

Their laughter trailed off uncomfortably into silence. Eames broke it.

"So, Marty, what d'you say about a bit of a favor for old time's sake?"

"The money?" Marty, it seemed didn't miss a trick.

"Yeah, I've got three off shores you can route it too but I want it clean and I don't know how dirty it is."

"Don't know where it came from?" asked Marty in eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Its mine." Piped up Gia, surprising everyone

"Yours is it darlin'?" Marty's voice turned oily as he addressed the girl who nodded stiffly.

"It was probably changed from Grivna" she explained.

"Ukraine?"

"Yes."

"Well that clears that up." Said Eames, eager to get going. "Will you do it?"

"What's in it for me?" asked Marty, fishing around in his pocket for a cigarette.

"A cut."

"How much?"

"That's for Gia to decide, its her money."

They all looked to Gia who looked back, eyes wide. "What's a usual amount?" she asked Arthur quietly. Everyone leaned in to hear his answer.

"It depends on what service he's supplying- do you need the money now or in a year or two years? How clean does it need to be? Untraceable? Do you want cash in the end- another currency?"

Gia turned to Marty, who was now puffing away on his cigarette sending ash all over the table. "I need it in dollars, American money. If you send small amounts at a time that would be perfect."

"Untraceable?" asked Marty, a greedy gleam in his eye- this was where the money was in his business.

"What ever can be done quickest."

"I take twenty percent cut."

Gia looked at Arthur and Eames who shook their heads. "Ten."

"Fifteen."

"ten."

"twelve."

"Alright. Deal." Eames smiled, the girl was feisty.

They stood up from the table and dragged the bags into Marty's private office, locking them into a safe. Arthur had a sudden thought.

"Don't you want to count it?" he asked Gia.

She shook her head, "I know how much there was in the safe- it was the price Wheeler was paid to take me in the first place"

"Why would he be paid to take you- shouldn't it be the other way around?" asked Arthur, perplexed.

"Not this time, I'm a terrible house guest." She smiled somewhat bitterly.

A/N ok so this might have been the longest wait ever for a chapter I'M SO SORRY TO ANYONE WHO'S BEEN READING THIS! But I got super inspired and here's the result! Also I'm really hoping that this story is now going to find it's feet and we can get on with some romance and adventure (promises promises!)


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Chapter 7.

It wasn't until they were at the airport that Arthur noticed that Gia was visibly nervous. Her eyes were even wider than usual as she stared and stared at everything around her. The crowds of holidaymakers pressed in on the group from all sides and Gia seemed to cringe away from all touch, sandwiched as she was between her two companions.

"Have you ever been on a plane before?" Arthur asked.

She shook her head, "not like this, not that I can remember."

Both men were getting used to nodding and smiling as though they had the faintest idea what she was talking about.

After check-in the trio lingered in Starbucks before going through security, Gia took one look at how the security patted people down before shooting off into the bathroom for twenty minutes. She only returned when Arthur was seriously considering going in and getting her.

"Time to go" said Eames, draining the last of the coffee from his cup.

Arthur grunted in agreement before standing. Gia trailed after them miserably, she'd already gotten funny looks from the woman at the check-in counter for not having any luggage and wasn't looking forward to further scrutiny.

Eames went first, nonchalantly placing his briefcase on the conveyer belt and strolling through the metal detector arch. Such was his confidence that even when he was patted down by the security guard she failed to notice the Glock he had in the holster under his jacket. Arthur wondered privately whether he even bothered to turn the safety off.

Arthur had purposely put Gia ahead of him in the line, afraid that if she wasn't being watched that she'd vanish off again and they'd never find her. She had a small plastic bag of clothes that she set down only with immense trepidation, glancing back at it as though afraid that it would be stolen.

She didn't set the metal detector off on the way though and so joined Eames safely on the other side. Arthur caught up with them moments after that, and they sped through duty-free to the gate.

Eames took the isle seat on the plane with Arthur in the middle and Gia staring avidly out of the window. The comely flight assistant for the first class section winked at Eames as she went through the flight safety demonstrations. He smiled wolfishly at her; it had been far too long since he'd been a part of the mile-high club. Arthur kicked him hissing, "we're working!"

Eames laughed, "Jealous Artie?"

Arthur shook his head in disbelief, taking a glass of wine when the attendant offered one and not missing the opportunity to look straight down her impressive cleavage.

"You're just as bad as each other. "Gia said quietly from her seat. Both men's head whipped around to stare at her.

"Sorry." Said Arthur, suitably abashed.

"Don't be sorry on my account." Replied Gia, a small smile quirking the edges of her lips, "but you will have to fight over her, there's only one flight attendant in this cabin."

Eames looked around and saw that this was true, "arm wrestle for it Artie?"

Arthur shook his head, "game of poker."

"You're on."

For the next two hours Gia stared and stared out of the window as the ground fell away from them and London shrank into miniature before being obscured completely by the clouds. Above the clouds the sky was as blue as a sunny day with streaks of ice-clouds high up in the stratosphere. It was so beautiful that she forgot to feel frightened about the height of the plane and settled into her seat comfortably. The men were engrossed in their poker game, Arthur had unearthed a set from nowhere and the rattle of chips and the sound of cards being shuffled made a soothing background to the rumble of the plane.

The flight attendant, clearly very pleased to have become the object of such bourgeoisie gladiatorial combat was being extra solicitous. It might have helped that they were the only passengers in the fist class cabin, she served them lunch early and Gia found herself digging into the pasta with surprising enthusiasm.

"Enjoying that are you?" asked Eames.

Gia nodded, swallowing, "It's the nicest food I've had in ages."

"Really?" asked Arthur who didn't think much of plane food on the whole.

"Definitely." She replied, tucking in again. Arthur was pleased to see her enjoying it, she needed every pound she could put on.

After eating Gia fell asleep or at least Arthur assumed that she was asleep, you could never be sure. He and Eames were at a stalemate in their match, both loosing and wining hands alternately. Eames had completely cracked Arthur's poker face but his lack of sleep was telling in his decisions, making him rash and inconstant.

"So who's meeting us at JFK?" asked Arthur, raising Eames 100 dollars.

"Cobb is sending Ariadne, he still doesn't like that airport much. Call." Eames turned over his cards to show a full house.

"And then were?" Arthur turned his over with chagrin to show only two of a kind.

"Back to Cobb's place for a few days, get Gia settled in before getting into the next bit of work we've got lined up." Eames cracked a small smile as he raked in the pile of chips. Arthur sighed, at this rate he'd never join the mile-high club.

"He's got something new?"

Eames nodded, shuffling cards like a pro, Arthur knew that it had been foolish to try and beat him at his own game but his naturally competitive nature didn't let him step away from a challenge. "Yes," Eames replied at length, glancing over at Gia momentarily, "something big."

After loosing the game of poker in spectacular style Arthur decided to get some rest, he'd need his wits about him for the next day if Cobb had another big job up his sleeve. The man had many fine qualities but patience wasn't really one of them, if he had a job on hand then everyone in the team had better be prepared to work.

The team that had worked the Cobal Engineering job had stayed together after their remarkable success with inception. Despite their best efforts, word had gotten out about their break-though and a steady stream of offers had been coming across Arthur's desk ever since. Most of these jobs were still extractions, some serious and some not. Arthur vetted all the jobs before he even though about giving them to the team- you couldn't be too careful after all. However Arthur's separate inception in-box had been growing relentlessly, he knew that many of the requests were hopeless but there were a few that seemed within the realms of possibility.

The problem with inception still remained in the execution. During the intervening year between the Cobal job and leaving for England, Arthur must have made a thousand trips to the second dream level in an attempt to reach the third. The third level, Cobb was convinced, was where the magic happened; only in this dream level were the intruders so deeply embedded in the subject's subconscious that they could effect a fundamental change.

Unfortunately, building a third dream level without exposing themselves to the likelihood of falling into limbo was proving very difficult and the team was getting tired of being crushed in collapsing dream levels if the dreamer so much as twitched in his sleep.

After the Cobal job the team had been glued to the financial pages of the newspaper every morning, holed up in their various safe houses around the world. Almost exactly one month of waiting later and the news broke about Robert Fisher breaking up his father's empire to focus instead on groundbreaking green energy schemes.

Arthur could still remember the wave of relief that rushed over him that morning, in the small Tokyo flat where he'd been hiding out for the past months. Without hesitation he'd packed his bags and flown straight back to the States to be picked up by Cobb. The team had been together ever since and were starting to receive more jobs than they could really take on. Arthur's mind went back to the conversation he'd had with Eames about Gia maybe being the extra pair of hands that Saito had provided during inception. He dismissed the thought, that couldn't be the only reason Cobb was willing to go to so much trouble to find her.

The sun was shining into Arthur's face as the "fasten seatbelts" sign switched on, waking him from sleep. Gia was curled up next to him, arms around her knees, Arthur gently lifted the blanket that had fallen off her shoulder and tucked it more securely around her. She smiled, eyes still closed and he knew he'd woken her.

The plane was pitching downwards, getting ready to land. Just as the landing gear disengaged noisily from the wing Eames hurried out of the bathroom and back to his seat, grinning wickedly and tucking in his shirt.

"You really did it then?" asked Arthur, somewhat enviously.

"Oh _yes_." Replied Eames with another wicked grin, "it really reminded me why I love poker so much."

"Remind me never to play you at your own game." Grumbled Arthur.

"I'll hold you to that." Eames said. "Is she awake?" he asked, nodding at Gia.

"I'm awake." Came the muffled reply. Gia sat up, running both hands though her hair, trying to sort out the tangles, it was a hopeless case however so she gave up with a huff.

"Sleep well?" asked Eames gingerly.

"Yes." Then she turned to the two men, "can you tell me who we're staying with?" she asked. Both men were taken aback, had they even told her that they were staying with anyone?

Arthur broke the awkward moment. "Two people, Dom Cobb and Ariadne Sinclair."

"Ariadne, that's a pretty name."

"Yeah, it is… she's nice, you'll like her."

"Do you all work together?" Gia asked, looking back and forth between the two men.

"Yes, and we're sort of all living together for the time-being as well, at Dom's house. He has two kids."

"Two kids and all of you? Must be a big house then." Gia's eyes widened as she tried to imagine it.

"Yeah, there's plenty of room."

"And I'm going to live there too?" she asked.

"If that's ok with you darling." Replied Eames gently, not wanting her to feel forced into anything.

Gia nodded, seeming to run out of words and looked out of the window until the plane touched down.

Eames spotted Cobb first, he was waiting for them just outside customs with a _welcome home_ sign and a worried frown. He waved jovially and Cobb spotted him, waiving back. Eames noticed that Cobb hadn't brought his children with him as he usually would to welcome the team at the airport; he knew that was probably because he wanted to see what Gia was like before taking her home. This made Eames wonder again what Cobb knew about this girl that he wasn't telling them. Gia herself popped up at his shoulder with Arthur right behind her. She had her plastic bag of clothes clutched in both hands as she scanned the crowd nervously.

"Come on darlin'." Eames started forward and let the other two follow him though passport control.

"Eames, how you doing?" asked Cobb clapping him on the back, Eames reciprocated. The two men had grown much closer after the inception job, over coming a slight mutual distrust that had always existed between them. Dom's children adored Eames who was equally enchanted with them and always brought back exotic gifts for them when he went off to work jobs overseas.

"Right as rain Dom, helluv a chore you've sent us on here." Before Cobb could reply, Arthur caught up with them, he'd put on his business jacket and was looking more like his usual sharp self.

"Dom, hi. This is Gia."

A collective hush fell over the group as Gia stepped out from behind Arthur, still clutching her plastic bag; she stared at Cobb for a long moment before speaking.

"Hello." She didn't offer a hand to shake.

"Nice to finally meet you Gia, I'm Dominic Cobb, you can call me Dom."

Gia nodded, not saying a word and Arthur caught Cobb's eye as if to tell him to wrap it up. Cobb shrugged, "Let's get out of here shall we?"

The four of them battled through the crowd of the front hall of JFK and into the parking lot. No one said a word until they were safely inside Cobb's black sedan and well onto the highway.

Surprisingly it was Gia who broke the silence. She was sitting in the back with Eames, when she suddenly piped up. "Where do you live Mr. Cobb?" she asked.

"Outside New York, Oyster Bay"

"Huh…" she didn't speak again. The air in the car buzzed with unanswered questions. Both Arthur and Eames were on their last nerve with Cobb already for sending them off on this truly insane quest. As soon as the three of them could reach his office there would be some explaining to do.

In fact Arthur and Eames only had to wait another hour and a half to find out their answers. As soon as the car pulled up at the house Ariadne appeared at the front door. She'd obviously been in the middle of drawing up some new plans as her hands were almost black with ink stains. She hugged first Eames and then Arthur, teasing him on how young he looked with out a suit on. If Ariadne was taken aback by Gia's appearance she worked hard to hide it. She introduced herself as a friend of Cobb's, not knowing that Gia knew they all worked together. Gia offered her a rare smile when Ariadne complimented her on the Dora the Explorer t-shirt and allowed Ariadne to take her off upstairs and show her where she would be sleeping.

"You'd better come into the office," muttered Cobb, shucking off his jacket and hanging it up.

Arthur and Eames followed him, neither knowing what to expect.

"Well, I can't thank you enough." Cobb began, "you have no idea."

"No we don't." said Arthur, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a packet of Marlborough cigarettes. He lit it whilst waiting for Cobb to continue.

"What's she like?" Cobb asked at length, as usual declining the cigarette that Arthur offers him.

"Quiet, scared of everything, possibly psycho." Replied Eames.

"Psycho?" asked Cobb, evidently worried about having her in the house. Eames smiled, _serves him right for getting us to do his dirty work_ he thought. He still hadn't forgotten the climb down the outside of the Council high-rise.

"She killed a man then disguised the body by blowing up his meth lab."

"Who?" asked Cobb, perplexed.

"The man we were meant to _buy_ her from, Wheeler." Arthur pushed the silver briefcase into the center of the room. Cobb goggled at it.

"Seriously. Is she dangerous?"

"No." said Eames with finality "he deserved it." Cobb nodded a worried frown still creasing his forehead.

"You're probably wondering what the hell is on." asked Cobb.

Eames gave him a very unimpressed look, "spit it out Dom"

Cobb sighed, "This girl, Gia, she's the next step, the next _level_ of dream sharing technology."

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur.

"After the PASIV was created dream sharing was mostly used for military simulations right?" the two men nodded. "Well after that came the illegal stuff, the extractions and the portable PASIVE devices and that's when dream sharing went underground." Everyone nodded again, Arthur privately wondering why they were rehashing common knowledge.

Cobb continued, "Just because dream work became illegal that doesn't mean that the _technology_ wasn't being developed. Think about it, anyone can buy a new PASIV, someone is obviously still making them… the people who created the PASIV didn't stop at creating a _device_; they created their ideal _user_. A person whose mind can harness the true capabilities of the technology."

There was a pause. "They _created_ her, so you're saying she's a robot or something? Because I could believe that-" Arthur asked.

"No not at all. What I'm saying is that her mind was opened so to speak, from a young age so that her subconscious is fully under her own conscious control."

"That's not possible." Countered Arthur.

"Your lack of imagination Artie… never ceases to delight." Eames piped up and Arthur glared at him before taking another long drag of his cigarette.

"So you say that she can use the PASIV in ways that we can't?" asked Eames.

"Yes." Said Cobb.

Eames leaned back in his seat on the couch… his thoughts were jumbled in his mind at this paradigm shift in his world-view. One thought in particular was bothering him and not able to help himself, he asked the question.

"This _ideal user_ business, it didn't work did it? Or otherwise there'd be loads of people like her, able to do things we can't in the dream- we'd be out of a job."

"You're right." Agreed Arthur, looking sharply up at Cobb.

"You are." Said Cobb, frown deepening, "no one really knows what went wrong but from the lab reports that still exist from the few places that actually did these kinds of experiments… there were side-effects, lots of cases where the drugs they used drove the children insane."

"Children?" asked Eames, head snapping up.

"Yes, most test subjects were about five to ten years old- entering the stage where higher learning is just starting to develop."

"Great. That explains a lot then…" Eames sighed, motioning for Arthur to give him a cigarette.

"Gia is the last known test subject- after her apparently the whole dream-share project was abandoned."

Arthur stood up suddenly, rounding on Cobb "And you never wondered why that might be? You never thought of the _danger_ before you came up with the great plan to spend thirty-thousand dollars buying a mentally unstable, abused twenty-year old _child_ from a low-life trafficking ring and not only was this a _death_ trap but you send us in _blind_." Arthur was not usually a man to raise his voice but when he was finished speaking he realized that he'd been shouting at Cobb leaning into the other man's face aggressively.

Cobb raised his hands in a supplicating gesture, trying to calm his irate point-man. "Arthur, if I'd told you where you were going and what I wanted you to do, would you have done it?"

Arthur scowled, "No, especially now you've told us what she's really here for. You want her for the team don't you so that we can do these inception jobs."

Eames looked up sharply.

"No. Not for the jobs, if she helps us with that then it's a bonus but you _know_ me Arthur, I just wanted to know how far we could go." Cobb's voice was sincere but Arthur's fists remained clenched at his side.

"What, like you did with Mal?" asked a voice from the door. It was Ariadne, who'd obviously been listening since almost the beginning. She was paler than usual, freckles standing out against her cheeks. Everyone whipped around to look at her, Eames spilling cigarette ash onto the cream carpet.

"Where's Gia?" asked Arthur.

"Upstairs." Replied Ariadne, her eyes never leaving Cobb's. "What the hell were you thinking Cobb?"

Thanks to all my reviewers it's so great to have feed back! xx


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